


Floating At Sea

by starcraft



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Drowning, Exile, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Tommy needs a hug, and Quackity provides one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcraft/pseuds/starcraft
Summary: “Big Q, I’ve- I’ve cried for weeks on end, every night- I always wake up in the middle of the deep sea. Drowning. With- with- with blood and water at the top of my throat, screaming.”Or; Tommy is tired of fighting, and Quackity is worried about him.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 342





	Floating At Sea

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! please read tags carefully as there may be some topics which may be uncomfortable for some readers :)

He always wakes up in the sea. It’s always at the bottom of the water, just barely able to get back to the surface before it fills his lungs. He’s not completely sure _why_ he wakes up in the water, metres away from the shoreline where “tnret” sits, though he does. Maybe it’s his way of trying to subconsciously get back to L’manburg—to his friends, his _home_.

It’s always the same when he wakes up, too. First, there’s the calm. The dull moment where he opens his eyes, and everything is blurry. It’s a bit cold, almost like he’s floating above the clouds. He can see the faint movement of kelp and squid in the distance. It’s almost beautiful. Then, he realizes that he can’t breath. He begins panicking, limbs flailing around and trying to grab onto something- _anything_ —because despite how tired, how exhausted he is, he knows that he doesn’t want to die. In the very back of his mind, when he’s stood on the cobblestone bridge suspended above the lava in the nether, he knows it then too. He doesn’t want to die, he just wants to go home. He wants the pain to stop.

He almost enjoys the pain of his burning lungs and throat, the pressure in his temples and the way he struggles to breathe. Everytime, he tries to scream. Everytime, it’s silenced by the water. That’s about the only time he remembers being able to feel anything, the time when his fight or flight kicks in. It’s the same feeling he’s gotten throughout all of the wars and conflicts he’s been in- that rush of adrenaline from the knowledge that he’s in danger. For whatever reason, he _craves_ that feeling. Even before he had gotten exiled, he wanted to feel that rush and the small boost of strength which came with it. Maybe that’s why he burned George’s house… He’s not completely sure. It doesn’t really matter anymore, anyways.

After he manages to climb his way to the surface of the water, gasping and coughing to try and expel the water from his lungs, he feels numb again. His rush of adrenaline is gone. He weakly swims over to the shore, pulling himself up onto the sand and laying there, eyes dull and with dark bags as tears roll down his beaten and bruised face.

Tommy has lost his blue.

Sometimes he falls back asleep, though it isn’t long until he wakes up screaming from another nightmare. Sometimes he just lays there until the sun rises and blinds his vision, basking in the warmth and the sand and the salty water which pools around his feet, and sometimes he yells, and shouts, and cries to no one, slamming his fist against the ground and clawing at the sand which lodges itself under his fingernails. He’s angry. He’s angry, and upset, and sad, and scared, and numb from everything the goddamned world has put him through.

It’s another night. Again, just like every other, he wakes up in the water, unable to breathe. In the back of his mind, a faint tune plays which reminds him of a lonely astronaut named Clara, floating around in space. His fight or flight begins to kick in, but he represses it.

He wants to join her. He doesn’t fight against the ocean this time. He’s done fighting.

Quackity’s last conversation he had with Tommy rings in the back of his mind. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

_“Big Q, I’ve- I’ve cried for weeks on end, every night- I always wake up in the middle of the deep sea. Drowning. With- with- with blood and water at the top of my throat, screaming.”_

He hadn’t realized that Tommy was doing so badly since Tubbo exiled him. It was unsettling, to say the least. Tommy, the loud, arrogant kid who always liked to be in charge, who was strong and never went down without a fight, who was now whittled down to a broken kid with ratty and ripped clothes, dirty, matted hair, and eyes which were dull and glossed over, completely void of all hope. For the first time he had ever seen, Tommy had given up.

Maybe that’s why he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had grabbed his beanie and a light jacket and gone out the door, running to the nether portal near the community house.

“Dammit, Tommy,” He muttered, leaning against the portal frame as he attempted to catch his breath. “This didn’t have to happen… If you had just stayed quiet and agreed to what Dream and Tubbo said, you wouldn’t be-” He exhaled and brushed some hair out of his eyes and under his beanie, stepping through the portal. The hot, ashy air made his lungs ache, though he burst out into another sprint down the cobblestone bridge with bright green arrows.

The last time he had woken from a nightmare like that, it was when Schlatt was still in control of Manberg. It was the night before the festival, actually. He dreamed of fireworks—bright colors and booming sounds, and a frightening laugh echoing across the world. The moment Schlatt had called Techno up to the stage and he saw the firework-loaded crossbow in his hand, he realized what was about to happen. By that time, though, it was already too late to stop anything. He lost his first life out of three, and that’s when he realized that he hadn’t been grateful enough for being alive. That was the reason he was so angry at Tommy for that stupid courage he had in standing up against Dream—because Tommy only had one life yet, even though he was only 16. He was still a _kid_ for fucks sake. If Tommy died, then that was it. He was gone.

Quackity stumbled up to the portal which connected to Logstedshire on shaky legs, hopping through it and beginning to feel more nauseous than he already was. Cold air blew against his face, and again his lungs ached for a brief moment from the sudden temperature change. He glanced around, catching sight of Tommy’s tent.

“Tommy!” Quackity’s stomach churned as he approached the tent, and he pulled it open to look inside. It was empty. “Tommy? Where the hell are y--?” He stepped inside the tent, noticing that the sheets had fallen off of the bed. They almost looked as if they had been dragged, and towards the side of the tent which led to the ocean…

With a wave of fear rushing over him, Quackity threw open the other side of the tent and ran to the shoreline, pulling off his beanie and jacket and dropping them to the sand as he scanned the water frantically.

“ _Tommy!_ ” In the corner of his eye, he caught a small glint against a dark blob in the water- something shining. At a closer look, it was a circular piece of metal, glowing like it was enchanted. _A compass-_

Quackity immediately jumped into the water, swimming towards the blob floating next to the purple glow. It was much farther out than he thought at first, only realizing that once he needed to go up for a breath of air before diving back down again. Now that he was closer, he could definitely see that the odd-shaped blob was Tommy. He slipped both of his arms under Tommy’s heaving him up with every ounce of strength he had.

 _“Come on, don’t give up on me now. You didn’t fight just for it to end up like this.”_ With a final tug, Quackity pulled both of them above the surface, and he gasped for air. Shaking his head to get hair out of his face, he looked to the younger kid in his arms.

“Tommy- Tommy, hey,” he lightly pat Tommy on the face with his hand in an attempt to stir him, though it wasn’t something nudged both his and Tommy’s leg did he awake, beginning to cough and elbowing Quackity in the side in the process. Quackity winced trying to keep Tommy steady, though looking around for what had bumped into them. He prayed to the gods and prime above that it wasn’t a drowned, otherwise they were fucked. To his relief, it thankfully wasn’t a drowned. Instead, Quackity heard a soft _chirp_ , and watched as a dolphin passed by them.

“Hey! Hey, c’mere,” The animal swung around again, and Quackity latched onto it, holding tightly onto Tommy with his other arm. It stopped at the shore, and Quackity dragged Tommy up onto the sand, turning him onto his side. He coughed violently.

“Shit… Jesus, fuck, man!” Quackity ran a hand through his wet hair, collapsing onto the sand next to Tommy. He placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, encouraging him to hack up the rest of the water which left a salty taste on his tongue. After many pained coughs, it fell silent with nothing other than the sound of the waves hitting the beach and wind rustling the leaves. Tommy clutched at the compass around his neck, knuckles white with his grip like it was his lifeline. Quackity shivered, whether from the wind or having just almost witnessed a friend drown, he wasn’t completely sure.

“The hell was that, Tommy?” He didn’t respond, though he was shaking. With a sigh, Quackity held his head in his hands. He stood up, walking over to grab his jacket, slipping on his beanie before returning to his spot next to Tommy. He draped the jacket over him.

“...It doesn’t matter, Big Q. Nothing matters anymore. I told you. I can never wake up from life.” Despite his words, Quackity noticed Tommy’s grasp on the jacket tighten and pull it closer to himself. He hesitated before nudging Tommy’s arm and speaking softly.

“Hey,” Tommy glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. Quackity outstretched his arms in an offer for a hug, waiting for his response. Tommy eyed him up and down, before slowly sitting up. He seemed hesitant, so Quackity nodded. Once given the reassurance that it was okay, Tommy choked on his breath, and dove into Quackity’s chest, grasping the back of his shirt and breaking out into tears. He rubbed Tommy’s back, humming. Tommy wailed, throat raspy from the salt and tears.

“It’s alright. Things will be alright, Tommy.”

Tommy sure hoped that he was right. He wasn’t sure how much longer he had left.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a line Tommy said during Quackity’s stream from 12/14 “VISITING TOMMYINNIT IN EXILE [DreamSMP]” At 9:15 ^^


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